


Mairen the Divine

by Saelmeril



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Blood, Dark, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Human Sacrifice, Missing Scene, Númenor, Priestesses, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saelmeril/pseuds/Saelmeril
Summary: Fem!Mairon in the Temple of Melkor.





	Mairen the Divine

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to Hadescat for proofreading.

'The moment the people of Anadûnê have been waiting for since the Giving of the Isle is nigh. The centuries of enthrallment, the centuries of cringing before the false lords—the so-called Valar—are over,’ proclaims the High Priestess of Númenor with smile sharper than a blade. ‘The Valar have deceived you. Today I destroy Eru Iluvatar, the phantom they created to keep you—the only ones able to challenge them—at bay. I call into these halls the only true Master—Melkor, the Giver of Life, the Lord of Eternity!’

The bellowing of the crowd blends with the deafening roar of the flames.

‘Hail Arûn Mulkhêr and Tar-Mairen, his prophetess!’

Mairen the Prophetess, Mairen the Wise, Mairen the Admirable. What flattering names they ascribed her.

She heard that Men never remembered the good done to them. She was surprised to learn that they forgot the evil even sooner. There was a time when they called her Cruel, the immortal queen beyond the ocean. They dreaded to utter her name. They frightened mischievous children with her ire. Nowadays they pray to her for salvation.

She remembers the days when Númenóreans spat in her face. Yet here and now… Although the gown conceals her curves, she can sense their desire for her, a particular warmth in her loins.

She stands, bathed in their ecstasy akin to heat of the flames dancing before her.

A captive lies on the altar, her arms and legs tied. Faithful—one can tell by the hoar and grey of her eyes. The girl is still young. Stripped completely, yet combed and bathed—only her paleness and wounds give away that she is at death’s door. The guards took it out on her. After the torments she’s lived through, what awaits her will seem like a gift of grace.

Mairen’s gaze falls on the Faithful.

_You think I don’t know what you’ve been trough? I too, rotted in chains, and it was your people who fettered me. Through you I bring my vengeance, dear._

While Mairen anoints her, the haggard creature gathers strength to speak—not in any language but in the long forbidden Quenya.

'Loyalty doesn’t burn. While the heart of the last _elendil_ keeps beating, our cause will live on. And you shall perish together with the blind men and the traitors whom you ensnared, Mairen the Deceiver, Mairen the Abhorred!’

Mairen pays no attention to the babble. What do mortals know of loyalty.

‘I take this life and give it to Him Who Arises in Might, so that he grants you with everlasting youth!’ Mairen exclaims, and the knife pierces soft and pale body of the sacrifice. The priestess sighs in delight, burying her fingers in the warm flesh. A couple of deft movements, a snatch—and the flaming heart contracts for the last time in her palm.

Mairen looks heavenwards and smiles at the roaring mob like a madwoman. Warm trickles of blood titillate her forearm.

 _The blood of Arda ran stale and rotted when they parted her with you. I will tear their hearts from their chests, like thirty centuries ago they tore you from the world you belonged to_ , thinks Mairen and feeds the breathless body to the fire.


End file.
